Last week the American Psychiatric Associations released a draft of DSM-V, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The final version is set to come out in May 2013. It has a number of proposed revisions which have been widely blogged about, including a new diagnosis of hypersexuality. In just about every post I’ve read, at some point, the author proposes Tiger Woods as the poster child for this new diagnosis.

As a blog on power and leadership, I’ve spent a fair amount of time here discussing instances in which power goes awry, in particular, why and how public figures and leaders torpedo their careers by engaging in risky sexual behavior. How can public figures like Bill Clinton, John Edwards, Eliot Spitzer and Tiger Woods, believe their sexual behavior can be kept secret from the world?  It is easy to see it as a mental disorder and it very well may be. Undoubtedly we’ll even find the gene that’s responsible, but making this a medical disorder keeps us from contemplating it as a behavior on a continuum, one we’re all prone to. (more…)

I started a Kids City Club for a group of fourth graders, as part of my work with the I Have a Dream Foundation in Oregon. Seven kids were chosen to participate in a series of activities to help them learn about government and how the city works. In one activity, we met with a city planner to learn about the redevelopment proposal for their local neighborhood, an economically disadvantaged slice of Northeast Portland with unpaved roads, no sewers or public parks, and numerous other problems.

They even made a presentation to the Portland city council on their ideas for improving their neighborhood. The kids did a great job, and the city council – the Mayor and City Commissioners (yes, Portland still has a commissioner style of city government) – was terrific. Council members really made an effort to make the kids feel at home. They asked lots of questions, gave them an extended photo op and a tour of the Mayor’s offices. (You can watch the presentation online thanks to Portland cable access). (more…)

I just saw Frost/Nixon. It’s a brilliant, chilling insight into power and ambition. What struck me was the degree of self-awareness Nixon had. Albeit, this is a fictionalized account; who knows exactly what went on in Nixon’s mind? But in the film, he’s portrayed as a worthy opponent, a crafty guy who is keenly aware of his own ambition and thirst for power and knows what he needs to do to win. And yet he’s trumped by Frost, an unlikely winner, a breezy, somewhat superficial talk show host. But what Frost has going for him is his likeability. He’s affable, charming, and easy going. At first, it appears he’s easy prey for the cunning Nixon, but in the end, we have the ultimate story of a nice guy finishing first.

Likeability in my view is underestimated as a form of power, and yet, I think the ability to get along with people trumps just about every form of power. Friends, connections and being able to get along well with others is the ultimate affirmative action. In a Harvard Business Review article, (June 2005) called Competent Jerks, Loveable Fools and the Formation of Social Networks, a study found that likeability is so key, that people are more likely to ask for help from someone who may not know the answer but is likeable, than from someone who is more likely to know the answer but isn’t likeable. In Frost/Nixon the power of likeability is maginified by its contrast to the opposite: Nixon’s tragic flaw of not being able to manage social interaction, of creating conflict rather than smoothing ruffled feathers, as Frost did so brilliantly.

Iâ??m a cyclist, and in summer, I spend hours and hours sharing the road with cars. Mostly I try to avoid very busy roads, but at times, itâ??s inevitable. Thanks goodness Iâ??ve never had an accident involving a car, but there have been a few tense moments, mostly involving Winnebagos on Highway 101 on the Oregon Coast. They always seem to pass me just as the shoulder gives way, on a steep ascent coming around a major headland, with a 20 mph gust of wind coming from the north, making my bike wobble in one direction, while the draft of the Winnebago pulls me sideways in the other direction. Itâ??s not pleasant.

But cars and bikes are a huge issue where I live in Portland, Oregon. Weâ??re increasingly known for our progressive bike politics; weâ??re the only city of our size with the â??platinumâ?? award from the League of American Bicyclists. There are several active and effective bike advocacy groups and a fantastic bike politics blog run by Jonathan Maus. I really admire Jonathanâ??s blog. Bike politics is a contentious topic, and there is a diverse and vocal group of frequent posters on his blog. One of the hot button issues is that of cars and bikes sharing the road. In the wake of several hit and runs, deaths, and road rage incidents (both car drivers and bike riders raging in the different cases), thereâ??s been vigorous debates about cars, riders, safety, and whoâ??s at fault. Is a car always at fault, since itâ??s bigger? What about cyclists and their responsibility?

Anyway, I was thinking about this, riding my bike down Hwy 101, south from Waldport to Yachats, enjoying a great tail wind, reaching speeds over 30 mph. I love having to slow down on my bike to come under the speed limit. But at that speed, I get even more vigilant of cars coming out on my right. Especially on a tourist route like 101. As a rider, Iâ??m not always visible since Iâ??m not directly in the driverâ??s line of vision. So I have this habit of raising my hand, sort of a like a wave. But in honesty, itâ??s actually more like a commanding â??stop!â?? The intent is to make myself visible, to get the attention of the driver, but at times, it feels more like a sentry signaling, â??Halt!â?? in no uncertain terms.

So there I was with a lot of time on my hands, thinking about this, and wondering, how is that hand signal perceived? Do people feel waved at, or do they feel commanded? Do they sense my anxiety, or do they see a cyclist, zooming along in a cycling kit, looking speedy and athletic, raising her hand in an arrogant salute?

Whatever arrogance I communicate is in fact fear. My bike and I weigh about 145 pounds, and the car weighs 5,000, not to mention whatever else velocity adds to the impact. Does the driver really identify with the 5,000 pound weapon he or she is driving? Just because they are in a bigger vehicle, do they actually feel more powerful on the road than the bike? On the bikeportland blog, and in many discussions, this is assumed to be the case. But it warrants a closer look.

Personally, I donâ??t think bigger size automatically translates into an awareness of power. I think this is the problem with many kinds of clashes involving power differentials. The person with less physical power, or material wealth, or resources insists on their lower status vis-Ã -vis the other; and yet the one with greater size, wealth, resource etc., does not always feel that way. There are psychological dynamics which intervene into what would otherwise be a straightforward social-political issue.

My friend Jan and I were riding earlier this summer in the foothills of Mt. Hood, on some lovely back country roads. It was a glorious summer day and we were enjoying a terrific descent, down into a beautiful valley. As we came around a long winding curve, we saw a car up ahead, slowing down in the middle of the road. Uncertain whether he was turning, stopping, or what, we had to slow down in the middle of a hill, which is difficult. And we didnâ??t know whether to pass him on the right, or if he was turning right. His brake lights kept going on and off, blinkers going left, then right. I felt my anger rise. Didnâ??t he see us? Does he think heâ??s alone on the road? I started to mutter something aggressive under my breath as we neared his car, but Jan silenced me. Look, she said, heâ??s lost. I looked in the car, and saw an elderly man, with a map and papers in his hand. He was leaning out the window, looking every which way, and clearly he was lost or looking for something or someone. Jan rolled up to his window, and said, can I help you? Are you lost? He said he was looking for a house number. I can appreciate how frustrating it is looking for a house out in the country. Driveways can be a half mile from the house, and the house numbers are often hard to read. We stopped and tried to help him for a few minutes, but not once did he acknowledge us, thank us, or talk to us. And then, he just turned around in the road, blocking us off completely, and took off in the other direction. Jan and I looked at each other, amazed.

I guess this guy was really frustrated, anxious or just angry at being lost. Iâ??m sure it had nothing to do with us as cyclists. But as I rode off, I thought of my parents. Theyâ??re great drivers, but they are getting older, and I know they feel more nervous on the road than they used to. They feel as much a victim of the 5,000 pounds of metal as a pedestrian or bicyclist, unsure of themselves, and unsure of other drivers.

Thatâ??s the problem with assigning power to the one with greater size. It doesnâ??t take into account how people feel, how they identify. A purely material way of determining power misses the fact that how we feel about ourselves, or how we feel inside often trumps the outer trappings of power. No matter how rich, powerful, or strong someone is, if she grew up with abusive parents or was badly bullied as a child, chances are she feels less powerful than her wealth or size would have us imagine. Psychologically, powerlessness tends to trump power. Hurt, abuse, insecurity, anxieties, itâ??s unfortunate, but these pesky little things have the power to dwarf the biggest stick, even 5,000 pounds of metal. Which is probably why I will continue my authoritarian salute as I pass by motorists. At the risk of offending them, I canâ??t trust that they are really aware of their 5,000 pound advantage.

It’s been quiet on the blog, but not due to a lack of activity. It’s riding season, and I keep forgetting how much it takes to get in shape early in the season. Reach the Beach in 100 degrees was a sufferfest. But that’s not the only thing keeping me busy. Last Tuesday was the Oregon primary, and the media descended on Portland, along with Obama, Bill and Chelsea Clinton. I’m a sponsor of the third grade at Rigler Elementary, as part of the I Have a Dream foundation, which was one of the organizations taking part in a community service project with the Clintons. So there I was, on Sunday morning, with a small group of kids and adults planting tomatoes and painting murals in a community garden with Bill and Chelsea. After an hour of cameras clicking, tomato planting and painting, I hopped on my bike, and whizzed across town to Tom McCall Waterfront Park to join a throng of 75,000 people listening to Barack Obama.

But with all that activity and excitement, one image keeps replaying in my mind. I had an opportunity to talk for a few minutes with Chelsea Clinton, without the media or other adults around. We chatted about nothing in particular, just small talk about community projects, teaching, and the like. I avoided asking anything political, or about her mother’s campaign, and yet I noticed she studiously avoided eye contact. Now, maybe I’m making a big deal out of this, but she kept her eyes downcast the whole time. Reading into it I got the sense that the public has to be a frightful thing for her.

And this is where this post winds its way back to leadership and power. I’ve been asking, what is it about leadership, about power, that lends itself to abuse or corruption? The problem is, though, the question doesn’t differentiate the person from the role. The leadership role and the person inhabiting that role are not one and the same. Stepping into a role is like stepping into a vortex of energies. You become a target for projections of all kinds: you are admired, hated, feared, seen as a role model, castigated for failing to be a role model. Your role represents qualities that you personally could never fulfill. And the role, as I pointed out in Public Life, Private Selves, has qualities and features that can take on a life of their own. So fully investigating power and its use and abuse has to take into account not just the individual, and what he or she does with power, but the role, and what influence or affect the role has on the individual.

When leaders or those in power are criticized, even if justified, too much is made of their personality, which leads to a dead end conversation: people in power are corrupt, psychopathic or evil. But if leadership can truly be everyday leadership, something for us all to share, then knowing more about the role and how projection and expectation factor into it, is important. There’s a reality to projection, to social expectation, and stereotyping. Studies show that expectations can play a determining role in performance. If teachers expect students to do poorly, students tend to do, well, poorly. And vice versa. High expectations can raise performance. I have had both experiences. I’ve stepped into the role of facilitator, and people expect me to know, and somehow I always find something brilliant to say. Likewise, I’ve been in the facilitator role when it was “take a shot at the leader” day, and well, it’s no fun.

Back to Chelsea. I kept thinking about her childhood, growing up hearing and seeing difficult, critical and nasty things being said about your parents, about you. What it must be like to be in the public eye, while her father’s infidelities were daily fodder for months on end. Then, just as things subside, your mother runs for President, and there you are again, in the public eye, open season. My eyes would be downcast too. Do I want to be open to whatever some stranger might say to me? Or even what they might think? How would I protect myself from that? How do we survive the roles we’re in? Step one is to become aware that we are in roles, that what happens to us is not just personal, but belongs to the role. Peter Block, who writes about leadership and about consulting, says, when working as a consultant, “take nothing personally before 6 pm.” In other words, what happens to you is addressed to the role, not only you.

Too often, our political leaders only embody the role, but not the personal part. But occasionally, there are amazing glimpses of the role and the person, separate yet relating. Later that day, Obama displayed that skill, something I have seldom seen public figures do:. He said, “I tried to run a positive campaign. But I haven’t always been successful in that. It’s hard. When someone whacks you, you get hurt, and want to whack back.” There’s a human in that role. Are we ready for that? Meanwhile, the media say: toughen up, it’s part of the deal to be whacked, whack back, and the American public need to know their leaders can be tough and take it. Or do we? I’d like to ask Chelsea what she thinks. Her eyes, or what I project into them, tell me otherwise.

The following post begins to explore the question of abuse of power, or failures of power. In my earlier post I asked, can we learn how to use power well, like we learn how to ride a bike, or does power really have some corrupting influence? Which, if any, features related to high rank alters behavior or even personality?

A lot has already been written about the now fading scandal concerning former governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer. In the heat of the discussion, the question reverberating through the blogosphere was, “What was he thinking?” The easy answer of course, is: he wasn’t. Thinking, as in carefully weighing pros and cons, considering consequences, cost-benefits, and all that, nope, that probably wasn’t done, or at least, done thoroughly. It couldn’t have been a very cogent thought process that led him to pay $80,000 over the course of several years for dates (sessions? appointments?) with high priced prostitutes.

My inquiry here isn’t about sex or prostitution. It’s about risk and the private lives of public figures. What possible thought or non-thought processes allow the Eliot Spitzers, Mark Foleys and Bill Clintons of the world to risk their careers in such high stakes pursuits? Or, in some secret recess of their mind, do they want to get caught, to torpedo a career they don’t, albeit subliminally, want? In his Newsweek.com article, Notes on a scandal, Howard Fineman, writes:

Spitzer is a type I have seen before: a candidate who needs to rocket at warp speed because he does not dare stop to consider whether he really wants to be living the political career he is living. Spitzer, it turns out, hated some or all of what he was, what he wanted to be, or what he had become. Why else would he knowingly risk destroying his life’s career?

One wonders, how many people, at the top, or near to it, find themselves in a life no longer their own? Surrounded by people they don’t like or don’t trust, doing a job they don’t like, or responsible to a public they scorn? Is it much different from anyone of us stuck in a job or role we don’t like? We manage to tolerate it by engaging in things that take the edge off, some illicit, others less so: drinking, hanging with buddies, hobbies, having affairs or visiting prostitutes, etc.

But for a leader in a public position, it’s a different story. We imbue the role of leader with heroic stature, we don’t want to know about the private doubts, fallibilities, and lack of perfection. We don’t want to see ourselves up there, some poor schlub bumbling and stumbling, we want to see heroes.

It’s a love/hate relationship we have with the human side of leadership. On the one hand, we love a personable, folksy, emotionally accessible person, the “Gipper,” the fatherly or motherly figure we can relate to. Yet on the other hand, we demand strength, infallibility, and heroism. And we are surprised to discover our leaders have human desires and needs, just like the rest of us.

This pressure to be perfect we put on the role of leader creates a schism between the public self and the private self. The public self is the hero, the private self remains inaccessible, hidden from public view. And so a gulf begins to widen between the public role and the private self widens, eventually morphing into a compartmentalized existence, a split personality of sorts. Over time, even the leader starts to believe in his or her public self, believing that what’s performed on stage is the real self. Likewise, the private self, the needs, emotions, self-doubt, and desires that are kept out of the picture become so secret that it is easy to believe they don’t exist, that others can’t see them. Because I don’t see this part of myself, others can’t either. But our secrets compel us. Our hidden selves are most dangerous; they become autonomous and push us to do things, even reckless things, in order to be gratified and indulged.

This is a problem for public figures and for all of us in jobs where the role demands a one-sided expression of the personality. And positions of power and leadership are typical of this. In so-called normal life, the boundaries between parts of ourselves are probably meant to be thin, almost permeable. It’s messy this way, but robust and secure. It’s what we call conscience. My professional self is there to remind me when I am at the office party, hey, you have to be at work on Monday with these people, watch yourself. Or, my parental self is never too distant, even if I’m holiday, or out for dinner, the parental antenna is on alert, just in case the phone rings.

But in roles where the stress, expectations and demands are super high, the boundaries thicken, sometimes necessarily so. Walls go up to protect and buffer the one self from the others. Police officers or soldiers for instance, frequently report that they cannot share their experiences with their close friends and loved ones. They come home, sit in front of the TV, or drink, and numb themselves out. They do not, and cannot transition easily between public and private selves because the experiences they have in their public selves are beyond what most people want to hear about.

When power comes into play, the walls between public and private self are fortified by the trappings of the job itself – unlisted numbers, personal assistants, wood paneling and leather furniture, a limo and driver, private jets, mobile devices, and layers and layers of intermediaries that protect them from contact with their everyday self. There’s a scene in the romantic comedy, The American President, where the President wants to get flowers for his girlfriend. But for the life of him, he can’t get past those walls. He picks up the phone, but discovers he can only reach the White House switchboard. He doesn’t have a car he can drive himself. He can’t leave the White House without the Secret Service. Once, he finally manages to get an outside line, the florist shop assistant hangs up on him when he says. “I’m the President,” certain it’s a hoax.

But if we see leaders as heroes, we should remember that heroes and gods are meant, in the words of Whitman, to contain multitudes. Our superheroes all have alter-egos for whom we cheer just as loudly as for their amazing feats of strength. We love Peter Parker as much as we love Spiderman. It makes our superheroes even better, that there’s a flip side to them, that there is someone we can relate to, someone who fumbles in conversation, who wears glasses and pocket protectors and is picked on by the school bullies. Even the Greek gods reflected this paradox. They were venerated for their superhuman abilities and strengths, while at the same time driven by jealousy, vengeance, and insatiable appetites. They were saviors and villains, all without contradiction.

But in our modern version of heroes, in our leaders, we don’t tolerate that dualism. So leaders become estranged from their alter ego, from friends, family, and most of all from themselves. The walls that protect the private self from the public one create a loneliness that can’t be assuaged. We can’t be our self, our full self in public, with needs and desires. But in private, we indulge them. We cannot seek solace in public, where we will be shamed, but in private, with strangers, with people who are paid to listen, paid to care, paid to be nonpartisan. And as Charlie Sheen says, paid to leave afterwards.

In Primary Colors, Senator Jack Stanton, (a thinly disguised Bill Clinton) is sitting in a donut shop, at what seems to be 1 am. He’s the only customer, sitting in that cold florescent light of the shop. The camera pans out wide angle, and we see the empty streets, the loneliness of the city, of the hour, and of the man, as he in turn soothes and is soothed by the guy behind the counter. And you sense, this is what he’s craving, and perhaps what brought him to politics in the first place, the desire to connect with people, the ultimate bringing together of the real self and the public role.

I’m in Florida, visiting my parents on the Gulf Coast. When the plane landed in Dallas/Fort Worth, for the stopover, and again in Fort Myers, the ground below looked, well, scratchy. In contrast to the loamy and verdant patch of land I call home, the earth looked threadbare, like an old quilt that had seen better days. And it’s not just the geographical landscape in Portland that’s different. There’s a cultural landscape in Portland, in Multnomah County, Oregon that is markedly different from many parts of the country.

These thoughts bring me back to the question of power. Because in that luxuriant landscape of Multnomah County, it’s easy to get myopic, to think about the problems of power and leadership in more benign terms. My goal here is to look at how we use power, how and why we use it poorly, and how we can use it well. And yet, the question nags me, is it that simple? What about blatantly abusive, even evil uses of power? Can we really learn how to use power like we learn how to ride a bike, or does power truly have a corrupting influence? I’m not sure it does. Maybe the already corrupted tend to seek power. Because not everyone in a high rank position abuses power. Which lends weight to the argument, to use gun advocates’ phrase, that it’s not power that abuses, but the person. Or perhaps it’s a problem of scale, that because of their high profile, leaders’ egregious acts of abuse are more visible.

So, over the next few months I’ll be looking at the more difficult sides to power, whether there really are certain factors related to high rank that alter behavior, or even personality. One of the difficulties in tackling this question is that it’s often answered by those who have been hurt by power, so we seldom hear the story from both sides. For this reason, I like to consider power a problem of scale – even in a small way, if we have misused our power, we can shed light on this question: how if it all has power itself contributed to its abusive use?

Photos taken of U.S. Presidents before and after their terms in office show what a huge toll that job takes on the body. In the four years between inauguration day and the end of term, Presidents often look like they’ve aged 10, not just 4 years.

It’s a grueling job, with a lot of pressure. What we see on the outside is only the tip of the iceberg. Many of us, while not quite as high profile, are in leadership positions that put a terrible strain on mind and body. What happens to the body and mind under the weight of public pressure and tensions of leadership? What toll does public attack and humiliation take on the mind and emotions? What about our energy and drive, after plans and ambitions are torpedoed by opposition, sunk by the weight of inaction, or stalled by endless rounds of skeptical questioning? (more…)

“I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people” — Mohandas Gandhi

Welcome to my blog, A Userâ??s Guide to Power. Why a userâ??s guide? My focus here is on learning how to use power well, and when, why and how itâ??s used poorly. Itâ??s also part of a longer project of writing a book called A Userâ??s Guide to Power^TM.

Why power? Why not call it leadership, influence, or persuasion, as do others when they talk about power? I want to use the word â??powerâ?? just because itâ??s such a dirty word and thorny problem. I want to tackle the problems of power head-on. Friendlier words like influence, persuasion, or leadership make it more manageable, but unpacking those thorny problems of power may help us learn more about its uses and misuses.

This blog will be a more personal, at times psychological approach to the behaviors and skills underlying our use of power. Itâ??s not going to focus on current politics, or even on specific public leaders, though it may occasionally. Itâ??s not about critiquing or benchmarking leadership by example, because my goal is to view leadership and the use of power as an everyday behavior, something for us all to master. This blog is a small attempt to humanize and demystify leadership, to bring it down off the mountain and into the hands of the people. Hopefully, it will be a forum on the trials and tribulations, challenges and success of leaders and leadership. I hope that by investigating the behaviors, mindsets and challenges inherent in using power, we come to appreciate leadership as something we all do and must do.

Thatâ??s why I call it a â??userâ??s guide.â?? Even though power is most associated with office, strength, rank, economics, or whatever, at its root, itâ??s still a set of behaviors. And therefore, using it well is learnable. It means learning and mastering the set of skills and behaviors that comprise it. Not dissimilar from learning to ride a bike. That may be an oversimplification, or naïve, but everything Iâ??ve seen so far in my work lead me to think this is worth a shot.

In the interest of full self disclosure (which is, supposedly, a good use of power), one of my ulterior motives is to talk about democracy. By viewing leadership and the use of power as something for us all to master, I am beating the drum for democracy. Personally, I am fascinated by the psychology of democracy â?? that means, how do people, not just countries, governments, and institutions, become democratic? What are the behaviors that we need to act democratically? And how do we learn them? Democracy, to date, has been more of a mechanism and less of a behavior. Because power is at the heart of democracy – demokratia, â??power of the people,â?? talking about the behaviors underlying power also means talking about the behavior that makes us democratic – governing ourselves and others wisely.

Trying to tackle the problems of power and failure of democracy only in terms of systems, institutions, governments, etc., misses a key leverage point â?? people. Before power is a problem on the outside, itâ??s a profound personal problem for the individual. Our first experience of how we use power is personal and internal. Getting up in the morning, we push ourselves to leave the warm bed, to turn on the shower, answer difficult emails, make breakfast for the kids, go to a job we hate, endure routines we dislike. And we use power everyday to make choices, whether mundane choices between eggs or cereal, or life altering decisions between jobs, partners, or goals. Even if we donâ??t make choices, or refuse to decide, weâ??re using power to resist deciding.

This use of power is not always at our fingertips. It is often used against us. Inner criticism is a form of power. So are resistance and cynicism, procrastination, rebellion, and bad moods. We use power to pursue goals that arenâ??t good for us. We use power to convince ourselves that we donâ??t deserve to live with love in our lives. We use power when we talk ourselves into giving up, or push ourselves to stay with something harmful. Power is at play whenever we put ourselves down, or feel inferior.

While it is often easier to see power â??out there,â?? in our bosses, parents, teachers, and in the institutions and bureaucracies that confound or oppress us, power begins within. How we use power on the outside is a reflection of how we use it on the inside. Whether we feel empowered or not, whether we can push back and influence the world around us in ways we want, depends on our intimate relationship to power.

My next series of posts concern the fog of war, the confusion, lack of awareness and obscured vision that awaits us when we step into a leadership role. I also look forward to being enriched by hearing from those of you in designated leadership positions, what is the human side of leading like? How is it to be in the crosshairs of public opinion? What has helped you most, been the biggest challenge? What have you learned from your failures? Thanks for joining me here.